You Keep Using That Word
by Pyroluminescence
Summary: SilverxProton, slash. While being held captive by Team Rocket, Silver finds himself starting to crack under Proton's constant verbal abuse. Warning for my headcanon!Silver and some noncon themes.


"Slut."

Silver's eyes narrowed dangerously at the Rocket in front of him. Proton was so close he could easily lash out and beat the fucker's face right in, but it wouldn't be worth it when he received the same beating ten times over. If Proton wanted to treat him like shit, he had no way of stopping him.

Instead, he snorted, shrugging off the insult as he always did. "And?"

Proton leaned in closer. Threatening. Authoritative. He was all the things that _pissed Silver off_, and he damn well knew it. "...And you usually like it when I call you that."

"...Hm."

Proton wasn't always bad – he was a damn good lay, when they were both in the mood. He knew where to bite and how hard, what to say, how to smack him and brutalize him and be gentle and touch _just right_. When he got Proton hot, "slut" wasn't a bad word. There was no malice, no bullying, no hatred in the word – just Proton purring it in his eye, voice dripping with desire. That was key – he wasn't a shameful, disgusting, subhuman slut, he was a fucking filthy, perverted, _beautiful _little slut, and _fuck, _it got him hot when Proton told him so.

He was a slut. He said as much about himself, and laughed when he was told he "shouldn't talk about himself like that". Fuck, what did people know? He was a slut, and damn proud of it. What was so shameful about being a slut? He had sex, he had it often, and he _enjoyed _it. Big damn deal. He was safe about it. If anything, he should be _thanked _for being a slut, because not only was he not hurting a damn thing, but he was bringing more pleasure into the world by being a slut. What was shameful about that? Sex was great, and having it didn't make him less of a person.

Yes, he was a slut. That was how he identified, and that was how he described himself. No one batted an eyelash when black people called themselves "niggers" or gay men referred to themselves as "faggots", but he'd be damned if he wasn't allowed to reclaim the word "slut".

He'd also be damned if anyone – least of all Proton – was going to deny him his identity. Proton had him trapped, stripped of his freedom, and maybe even cornered, but like _hell _was Proton going to tell him who he was.

His resistance didn't go unnoticed, and there was little more Proton absolutely loved than finding ways to break him when he stood his ground. The bastard didn't look it, but he was probably absolutely gleeful at having a chance to play his favorite little game.

That was the scary thing about Proton; he was a Rocket executive because he was good at his job, but he wasn't good at his job because he cared. He was good at his job because it was a means for him to do whatever the fuck he wanted without punishment. He had to have some outlet for his cruel intentions, and Team Rocket fit his needs perfectly.

Proton wasn't a jerk; in all seriousness, he probably didn't even think of other people as _having _feelings. He was a straight-up sociopath. He said he loved causing others hurt, but Silver doubted he even had the barest concept of what that meant. Simply, Proton didn't seem to realize other people had emotions, and Silver often doubted Proton did, himself. Proton's world was black and white, divided into things that angered him and things that brought him joy. That there was an entire spectrum of feelings beyond that most likely eluded him. More than likely, it angered him, as most things he didn't understand just pissed him off.

Proton didn't care about anyone. Perhaps, not even himself. To him, it seemed like life meant only finding the things that pleased him the most, and, while Proton was obviously intelligent, he seemed to have no concept of mortality as it applied to him. Or, more accurately, he just didn't _care_, period.

The way he grabbed Silver, throwing him on his knees before painfully backhanding him – there was passion in his movements, in the way he fought to make pain show in Silver's face, but passion was only just that, and the brief moments of glee were gone, burnt up as soon as they appeared, leaving Proton frustrated and anxious for his next chance to feel something – whatever he felt when he beat the shit out of things smaller than he was.

Silver held his ground, bowing his head in mock submission, trying to hide his smirk when Proton's boot collided painfully into his ribs.

"Slut," Proton repeated before kicking him again. Silver winced, grinding his teeth together before turning around and kicking Proton in the legs.

It caught the Rocket off guard enough for Silver to knock him over, and all at once Silver was on him, fighting to keep Proton down and his hands off of him. He growled, leaning in close, careful not to give Proton room to bite or claw at him.

He was panting slightly with the effort of overcoming the larger man, but still smirked, holding himself high in victory. "Yeah, I am a slut."

He looked Proton dead in the eye, returning the Rocket's blank glare with his own harder, angrier one. "But that's _my _word for me; not _your _word for me. If you think you can use what _I _call myself against me, then you've got another thing coming."

At this, Proton looked heavily disinterested, neither pissed off nor happy, and thus not feeling much of anything at all. "And...?"

Silver just smirked. "You want to call me a slut? You've got no room to talk, _slut. _Hands and knees. _Now._"

There was a brief flicker of indecision, apparent in the way Proton closed his mouth and focused hard on Silver's expression before reeling back and _laughing. _"Ha! What is this, role-reversal? You want me to be _your _slut?"

Silver rolled his eyes. "That's what I fucking said. Quit playing games. I said _hands and knees. Now._"

Slowly, he let up his grip on Proton, not at all surprised to see the Executive do exactly as he asked. That was just who Proton was. If it was a means of entertaining himself, he'd find a way to make himself think he was coming out on top and find some sort of satisfaction in following orders.

He could have easily won, and they both knew it, but Silver knew as well as he did that he couldn't consider this a victory for very long. Proton had given in for a reason, and there'd be hell to pay when Silver was on the receiving end of his games once again.

For now, he was just going to fuck Proton bloody and enjoy the moment – just like Proton seemed to always do to everyone else.


End file.
